Mafter Launcelet. Gob. Your worships friend, and Lancelet fir. Lan. But I pray you ergo olde inan, ergo Ibefeech you, talke you of yong M.Lancelet. Gob, Of Lancelet an't please your mastership. Lan. Ergo mafter Lancelet, talke not of inaifter Lancelet Father; for the yong Gentleman according to fates and deftinies, and fuch odd fayings, the tifters three, and fuch braunches of learning, is indeed deceased, or as you would fay in plain terms, gone to heauen. Gob. Marry God forbid, the boy was the verie staffe of my age, my very prop. Lance. Do I looke like a cudgell or a houell poste, a staffe, or a prop: do you know me Father. Gob. Alacke the day, I know you not yong Gentleman, but I pray you tell mee, is my boy (GOD reft his foule), aliue or dead. Lance. Do you not know me Father? Gob. Alacke fir, I am fand blinde, I know you not. Lan. Nay, in deede if you had your eyes you might faile of the knowing me: it is a wife Father that knowes his own child. Well, olde man, I will tell you newes of your fonne, giue mee your bleffing; Trueth will come to light, Murther cannot be hidde long, a mans fonne may, but at the length trueth will out. Gobbo. Pray you fir ftand vp, I am fure you are not Launcelet my boy. Lance. Pray you let's haue no more fooling about it, but giue me your bleffing; I am Lancelot your boy that was, your fon that is, your child that shall be. Gob. I cannot thinke you are my fonne. Lance. I know not what I fhall thinke of that, but I am Lancelet the Iews man, and I am fure Margery your wife is my mo ther. Gob. Her name is Margery indeede, ile be fworne if thou bee Lancelet, thou art mine owne flesh and blood: Lord worshipt might he be, what a beard haft thou got? thou haft got more haire on thy chin,then Dobbin my pilhorfe has on his tale. Lan. It fhould feeme then that Dobbins taile growes backward. I am fure he had more haire of his tayle then I haue of my face,when I laft saw him. Gob. Lord how art thou chang'd: how doeft thou and thy Mafter agree? I haue brought him a prefent; how agree you now? Lance. Well, well,but for mine owne part,as I haue fet vp my reft to runne away,fo I will not reft till I haue run fome ground; My master's a very lew, giue him a prefent, giue him a halter, I am famifht in his feruice. You may tell euery finger I haue with my ribs : Father I am glad you are come, giue me your prefent to one Mafter Baffanio, who indeed giues rare new liueries, if I ferue not him, I will runne as farre as God has any ground. O rare fortune, here comes the man, to him Father, for I am a lew if I ferue the lew any longer. Enter Baffanio with a follower or two. Baff. You may doe fo, but let it be fo hafted that fupper be ready at the fartheft by fiue of the clocke: fee thefe Letters deliuered,put the Lyueries to making,and defire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging. Exit one of his men. Lance. To him Father. Gob.God bleffe your Worship. Baff. Gramercy,wouldst thou ought with me? Lance.Not a poore boy fir,but the rich Iewes man that wold fir,as my father fhall fpecific. Gob.He hath a great infection fir, as one would fay to ferue. Lance. Indeed the fhort and the long is, I ferue the Iew, and. haue a defire as my Father fhall fpecific. Gob. His Mafter and he (fauing your worships reuerence) are fcarfe catercofins.. C 3 . Lan.. Lan. To be briefe, the very truth is,that the Iew hauing don me wrong, doth caufe me as my Father, being I hope, an olde man, fhall frutifie vnto you. Gob. I haue heere a difh of Doues that I would bestow vpon your worship: and my fute is Lan. In very briefe, the fute is impertinent to my felfe, as your worship hal know by this honeft old man, and though I fay it, though old man, yet poore man my father. Baff. One speake for both, what would you? Lan. Serue you fir. Gob. That is the verie defect of the matter fir. Baff. I know thee well, thou haft obtain'd thy fute, Lan. The old Prouerbe is very well parted between my mafter Shylock and you fir, You haue the grace of God fir, and hee hath enough. Baff. Thou speak ft it well. Go Father with thy fonne, My Lodging out. Giue him a Liuery More garded then his fellowes, fee it done. Lan, Father in, I cannot get a feruice, no, I ha nere a tongue Baff. I pray thee good Leonardo thinke on this, Returne Returne in haft, for I do feaft to night, Enter Gratiano. Gra, Where's your Mafter. Leon, Yonder fir he walkes. Gra. Signior Baffanio. Gra. I haue a fute to you. Baff. You haue obtain❜d it. Exit Gra. You must not deny me, I must go with you to Belmont. Baff. Why then you muft. But heare thee Gratiano, Thou art too wilde, too rude, and bold of voice, Parts that become thee happily enough, And in fuch eies as ours appeare not faults, But where thou art not knowne. Why there they fhew To allay with fome cold drops of modeftie Thy skipping fpirit, left through thy wilde behauiour And lofe my hopes. Gra.Signior Baffanio, heare me: If I do not put on a fober habite, Talke with refpect, and fweare but now and than; Like one well ftudied in a fad oftent) To please his Grandam, neuer truft me more. Gra. Nay but I barre to night, you fhall not gage me Baff. No that were pitty, I would entreate you rather to put on YOUR F Lan. To be briefe, the very truth is,that the lew hauing don me wrong, doth caufe me as my Father, being I hope, an olde man, fhall frutifie vnto you. Gob. I haue heere a difh of Doues that I would beftow vpon your worship: and my fute is Lan. In very briefe, the fute is impertinent to my felfe, 25 your worship hal know by this honeft old man, and though I fay it, though old man,yet poore man my father. Baff. One fpeake for both, what would you? Lan. Serue you fir. Gob. That is the verie defect of the matter fir. Baff. I know thee well, thou haft obtain'd thy fute, Shylocke thy mafter spoke with me this day, The follower of fo poore a Gentleman. Lan. The old Prouerbe is very well parted between my mafter Shylock and you fir, You haue the grace of God fir, and hee hath enough. Baff. Thou speak ft it well. Go Father with thy fonne, My Lodging out. Giue him a Liuery' More garded then his fellowes, fee it done. Lan. Father in, I cannot get a feruice, no, I ha nere a tongue in my head. Well, if any man in Italy haue a fairer table which doth offer to fweare vppon a booke, I fhall haue good fortune. Go too, heere's a fimple line of life, here's a fmal trifle of wiues: Alas, fifteene wiues is nothing, eleuen VViddowes and nine maids, is á fimple comming in for one man, and then to escape drowning thrice, and to be in perill of my life with the edge of a feather-bed, heere are fimple fcapes: well, if Fortune bee a woman, fhee's a good wench for this geere. Father, come, take my leaue of the Iew in the twinkling of an n eye. Baff. I pray thee good Leonardo thinke on this, ile Returne |